Hello! Just stopping by to say that due to the kind encouragement of local indie press Analog Submission, you can now preorder a new chapbook of my verse online at: https://www.analogsubmission.com/product/little-irritants-by-darcy-isla
This is a limited run of only 25 copies, and they’re already going, so get in there quickly if you’d like a copy. Some of these ones will most likely be taken off the blog after the chapbook goes out.
Take a peek at the link above for some angry, irritable, punk poems with sand in their pants and stones in their boots.
And here are a couple of variants of the cover:
Good morning, happy whatever-day-it-is-when-you-read-this. The rain is pouring down here in York today and the trees are willing Autumn on to deliver their yearly release.
It’s been a while since I created and shared anything new on here. But I’ve been stretching my writing muscles in reviewing on other platforms, and performing in plays and other such nonsense.
This is a quick announcement to day that you can now buy physical, hold-in-your-hand-and-give-to-your-friends collections of my writing on Etsy at https://etsy.me/2LcKcsG
There are currently three items available: Victoriana-inspired love notes, break-up stories, and a collection of 100 poems that I wrote in two days. I’m working on a listing of all three as a package deal too, which will hopefully be up soon.
Even being back here in the post writer in WordPress makes me feel warm and welcome and heard. I missed this.
Please take a look and consider supporting my work, so I can continue to write. Spoons and time are hard to come by. But words are buxom, pressing. The magic of the world needs documenting.
I’m unsure yet, but I think I’d like to maintain this archive of my work online that is accessible for free. My printed books will be for those who have the means to supoort my work, and wish to hold something tangible, smooth, immediately present, to read with their hands and to show and tell with in the good old-fashioned way.
Thank you all, whomever is still here, for your continued commitment and support. You make the transient arts arts possible.
See you soon…
I haven’t found it yet
But there is a tunnel in our garden
That leads to your flat in Brighton near the Lanes
Near the special sausage shop
Near the retro-vintage warehouse and the piers,
Old and new, and that restaurant
Designed to look like opera boxes
All these things are within my reach.
The cat could even come with me.
Arnauld threw a rope into the holy blue
Pulling it a little closer
So that everyone could pluck from its goodness
I reach out and get
I’ll pencil you in
Ten years ago we just said yes
and where and when
“I’ll text you”
Do not ask me to love myself as you love me
I do not see in my face what you see,
treasure in my countenance what you must.
I cannot love myself as you must.
I still question
whether it’s a weakness
to retain words inside you
when they boil up your throat
flap about your brain
because there’s no civilised way out.
We’re taught to behave
anything but retaliate.
How some people can look with only a slight smirk,
unerring in the face of complete dissatisfaction,
derogation, insult. When anger would engulf someone smaller
they stand still and let it wash over them
as if they were pleased to be there.
As if there were nothing more pleasant in life.
How trite, how lucky we are to live life,
and these moments are so small, such trifles in the face of the great infinity.
How wise, how enlightened.
I always thought it was a weakness to
let them get away with it;
whatever it was.
crossing of social boundaries,
heinously antagonistic political views.
I thought, “No, fuck you,
how dare you think you can say that, do that,
you must hear that you are wrong,
and discover it, and feel ashamed,
and never do it again.
I have made the world a better place.”
And, of course, I haven’t.
The decided will not notice what you think
if it doesn’t fit their picture.
is not is your target audience.